


he won't love you (like I do)

by Daisy_PoisonPen



Series: A Short Policeman AU [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Songfic, pls help, tagging this is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_PoisonPen/pseuds/Daisy_PoisonPen
Summary: Connor got conned into working tonight, he definitely didn't want to be here. and he definitely did not want to see his ex after 4 years.T for language, an ongoing name-calling battle between Con and Gav, and probably an'asdlkajhdf' warning.





	he won't love you (like I do)

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy this is weird. i haven't written song fic since... well, since a while a go. but here you go, I couldn't resist. let me know how it went.

 

 

 _He won't know you_ _  
_ _Like I do_

Connor's current partner conned him into this. Gav Reed is an asshole and is constantly conning him into doing shit he doesn't want to do, and this is just another tick on a laundry list of things he's been dragged into because of his partner.

Asshole though he is, Connor would easily take a bullet for him, and he doesn't trust anyone else to feel the same way about the prick, and said prick doesn’t always seem to mind when he’s around. So here he is, standing outside in the fucking rain as part of a police detail for some political fundraiser in some rich hotel's fancy ballroom space or something—he doesn't care.

He makes himself _not_ care about politics anymore. Not since _him._ Connor's face falls.

Across the way of the entrance, Gav notices the change in his expression. “Hey dipshit, you alright?”

“Fine, nutsack,” Connor answers as Gavin strides over to him, his hand resting on his uniform's radio. Gav is older than him by like eight years, but it's not notable except in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. He's got sandy brown hair and eyes that Connor always found striking, if not for the color, than for the guarded, pissed off expression that they always have.

“Then suck it up. We've got incoming, some more fancy rich people.”

“There was a reason I didn't want to be here,” Connor mumbles.

“I don't know what that means, but whatever. We're here, and we can't back out now so untwist your panties. Want someone to relieve us for a sec and we can grab some coffee to warm up once they've gone in?”

Connor smiles. Gav isn't _always_ an asshole. Just 99% of the time. Most people only know the 99, but Connor gets to see that one percent from time to time, and it makes him proud to have a partner like Gavin Reed.

 _You were standing there_ _  
_ _With street lights in your hair_

A limousine pulls up then, and Connor straightens from where he was leaning, surveying his surroundings carefully before turning his attention back to the limo.

A blonde man steps out, followed by a tall, white-haired man and his statuesque wife, he presumes by the bling on her hand. Lastly, another man slips out of the car and takes the first blonde man by the hand, giving a toothy smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Connor's entire body turns to ice. _Markus._

He hasn't seen Markus in four years. He hasn't seen Markus since he took his things from Markus's apartment and went to his father's house, where he stayed until he graduated from the Detroit Police Academy, two years ago. He hasn't seen Markus since Markus ended their relationship because he was starting to develop feelings for someone else, and he didn't want to be dishonest.

He watches them as they turn to the entrance after the older couple, the woman's shiny brown skin offset by the ivory-and-black dress she has paired with sparkling white diamonds and opulent pearls and the mens' sharp suits and expensive watches glimmering in the white-blue of the city lights and the odd iridescence of the halogen lights the hotel still uses.

 _And you were on the arm_ _  
_ _of someone unaware_

His deer-in-the-headlights-expression causing alarm and confusing in his partner, who stands in front of him and places his hand on his gun. “Anderson? Talk to me, asshat. What did you just see?!”

“N-nothing. I'm fine.” His voice is defeated. It's the same kind of defeat numbness, he imagines, that happens to burn victims who literally can't feel pain because the severity of their injuries literally destroys their nerves.

That's how he still feels about Markus. _Burned._

 _That I was standing there_ _  
_ _as if my bones were bare_

It's Connor's voice and tone that make Markus look up at him, his eyes wide and suddenly desperate. Heat crawls into his face, displayed as a faint red. The blonde next to him—Simon, Connor remembers—looks at him with a confused expression. “Mark? You okay?”

Connor has to force himself not to roll his eyes. Markus _hates_ when people call him that. He probably hates it even more with how _blondie_ says it, an annoying mispronunciation of the letter R that Connor knows is left over from growing up in the Northeast.

“Fine,” he says shortly. Connor sees a trace of sadness in his eyes, or maybe he's just imagining things.

 _and when our eyes collide_  
_a ghost of us_ _  
_ appears to remind you

Gavin subtly moves his hand away from his gun and checks their invitation before holding the door open for them to proceed to the metal detectors, with a fake smile and a “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Manfred, thank you for coming.”

Once they're gone, he talks into his radio for a moment, and then two other cops come stand near the door. “We've got half hour,” Gavin says, taking his partner's arm and dragging him away from where he was still rooted to the ground in shock, pulling him inside to dry off and get coffee. They're not even sitting when Gav blurts, “what the fuck was that about?”

“Oh, um...” Connor stares into his coffee cup. “I don't... want to talk about that. That stuff is personal, now’s not the time.”

“Oh come on. If you're pretending you're still in the closet, the entire fucking precinct knows you're gay.”

“Ha! Do they?”

“The gayest motherfucker that ever was. Now start talking. Who was that guy, and why'd he look at you like you had come from his own personal hell to haunt him?”

Connor snorts. “That's probably what I am to him, now.”

Gav frowns. “Ouch. Are you okay?”

“Careful, your give-a-fuck is showing.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin laughs. “I don't even have one of those.”

“I met him when I was finishing my associates. He was in his last year majoring in political science and government administration. Well dressed. Sexy. So, so kind. Did you see his eyes?”

“Yeah I noticed. They're two different colors—what the fuck is that called?”

“Heterochromia.”

“The only thing 'hetero' about that motherfucker.”

Connor snorts again. “I fell really hard for him—he...” his eyes water and he looks down, studying the wisps of steam coming off his coffee with interest. “He was the first person I ever _really_ fell in love with. I... I still know everything about him, like the fact that he knows everything about art because his father is a famous artist, but he doesn't want anything to do with it. I know how he looks when he's getting ready to debate the fuck out of someone in politics. I know asking him his favorite color makes him rant about art and the colorwheel, and how colors are supposed to evoke emotions but he feels fuck all about any color, but after he's done ranting, he'll tell you that his favorite color is the color of the sky just before sunrise where everything is deep blue. Five will get you ten that _Simon_ has never even asked. I know that he hasn't even asked about why Markus doesn't drink or smoke, or why he has an art room he never uses. In fact, I bet Markus doesn't even let him in there.”

“Hmph.”

“I gave him the best of me,” Connor says quietly.

“I'm sorry, kid. Mind if I ask happened?”

“He, um... that guy he's with, he met him in one of his advanced sociology classes or something, and... they started studying together a lot, and by the end of that semester, he told me that he was starting to feel something for him and wanted to take a break.”

“His loss,” Gav says with a shrug and a sip from his disposable cup.

“I got my stuff from his place and I went to stay with my dad for a while, and then... well, and then after that I went to the police academy. It's been _years_ since I saw him, and... well, it makes me mad that he's lasted with that guy so long. It should have been me.”

Gavin takes a deep breath. “I don't wanna be the one that gets your hopes up, so don't take this as some kind of me giving a fuck and trying to help you get him back or some shit, because I don't, and I'm not.”

“Uh—okay...?”

“Sometimes people realize that they fucked up, and the thing that they really wanted was what they had all along, and they didn't realize it until what they _do_ find, ends up subpar. But they stick with that because they fully realize that this is the best they can do now that they fucked up. Does that make sense?”

“Pretending that it does, do you mean to tell me you think Markus is _settling_?”

“Obviously,” Gavin says, rolling his eyes. “Again, don't get me wrong, he clearly still feels something for Bwosten Blaandeh over there, but he clearly also knows he could have done better.”

“You got all that just watching him get out of the car?”

“No, but I got that when blondie called him Mark and he had to fight not to wrestle me for my gun to shoot himself.”

Connor frowns. “He hates that name.”

“Well Blondie doesn't know that, but for whatever reason, this  _Markus_  doesn't correct him. He just struggles with thoughts of murder. Or suicide. Or both.”

Connor can't help his chuckle. “You're a horrible person.”

“You saw his face, you know I'm right.”

“You are,” Connor says. “Thank you,” he adds eventually. “You can put your give-a-fuck away now.”

“You act like I ever had that shit out, you sack of nipples. I'll be outside when you're ready.” Gavin punches his shoulder as he saunters back toward the entrance.

He hasn't been gone five minutes before another voice speaks up behind him. “Connor?”

Connor tenses, but he doesn't startle, since he heard Markus's steps from the elevator—a distinct drag-click that is unique to Markus's footsteps, product of a bad break in his left femur when he was fourteen years old. _He still knows how Markus's footsteps sound._

“Connor, I just wanted to...”

“Wanted to what?” Connor asks. He sounds burn-numb again.

“Just... to say hello." He sounds painfully awkward. "I haven't seen you in almost four years—I didn't really think I'd never see you again, but then I didn't. Well, until now, so...”

 _I try to speak_  
_the words fall carelessly_  
_onto the ground_ _  
_ and puddle all around your feet.

His chest aching, Connor finally asks, “how... have you been?” just to say something.

“I... okay. Good, I think.”

“You're... not sure?”

Markus chuckles. “Not really. I didn't realize you were planning to be a police officer,” he says after a while.

“I wasn't. I was going to go to CSI school.”

“What changed your mind?”

Connor shrugs. “My dad said something to me that made me rethink a lot of things, I think.”

“You're not sure?”

“I'm not sure about a lot of things,” Connor says. “Like why you're here and not in the ballroom with your _boyfriend._ ”

“Fiancé,” Markus corrects in a whisper.

“Oh.”

 _And, darling, truthfully,_  
_I'm still in disbelief_  
_that someone else has taken you_ _  
__away from me_

“Well then...”

Connor heaves a tired sigh. “What, Markus?”

“Well then what are you sure about?”

Connor stands up, suddenly angry with himself for entertaining this conversation, and angry with Markus for how he still makes him feel. He tosses his cup in the trash and meets Markus's mismatched eyes, one brown with flecks of golden-green, and the other gray-blue. “The last thing I ever told you,” he says, "but that doesn't matter now, does it?" And then he walks out the lobby door, leaving his former boyfriend to watch him walk away again.

Connor doesn't see Markus's shoulder sag, or see him exasperatedly rub his head. He doesn't hear the words echoing in his ears:

“ _Just remember_  
_he won't know you_ _  
__like I know you._

 _He can't love you_ _  
_ _more than I do.”_

Markus watches him go, tired. He refuses to admit that those words were true. Admitting so will ruin the life he's made for himself. But still... he can't help but think that the life he's built for himself is worth ruining for someone like Connor.

 _Some part of you_ _  
_ _knows it's true_

Outside, Connor takes his spot next to Gavin, relieving the second officer. “You were right,” he says to his partner.

“I usually am, but please elaborate.”

Connor sets his jaw, angry determination on his face. “It's his loss.”

“Yes the fuck it is.” Gaving turns to him then, meeting his eyes. “Look, cunt-knuckle, I don't know anybody as fucking loyal and annoyingly friendly and sweet as you, alright? Actually, the last bit is what gives the gay away, so tone that down if you don't want people talking.”

Connor snorts. “Gee, thanks for telling me that _now,_ fuckface.”

“Anytime, asswipe. Look, basing your happiness or unhappiness in other people is... well, it leads to dumb shit like what's happening to you right now. Aside from him, outside of him or anyone else, you gotta do what's good for you, okay? Let that unlucky bastard go. Be happy in yourself and with yourself. And you'll see that even though _he_ won't ever do better, _you definitely will.”_

“Your give-a-fuck is showing again. Wow, twice in one day? You're slipping up.”

“Har har,” Gav says dryly. “You should play the lottery.”

Connor shrugs. “Maybe. I just... it sucks when you _know_ someone was supposed to be it for you but it still didn't work.”

“Yep. Uhh-hey those two losers inside look like they need a pee break. Let's man the metal detectors and shove those lazy assholes outside.”

“Sounds good.”

The officers in question relieve themselves and grab cups of warm coffee before heading outside.

Markus is sitting where Connor was, now. He looks upset, and Connor turns away, upset too.

Markus slips out of the chair, calmly wipes up with a napkin, and searches out Connor's eyes again. They water for a second, and Connor looks down. When he looks up again, Markus is disappearing into the ballroom, the door already shutting slowly in his wake.

In his mind, Connor does his best not to feel himself crack open like he has so many times at the thought of Markus. He does his best to say goodbye. _He's marrying Simon, it's over. Move on,_ he tells himself. He takes deep, cleansing breath. This was the worst time for something like this. He is _working._ He can't slack on security because his ex has him messed up. That kind of thing can get people killed. Another breath is released as he promises himself that he is going to be okay. He closes his eyes. Takes another breath. Releases it slowly. He can't get distracted now. He has to focus.

With renewed energy, he opens his eyes and shifts himself out of his lean, intending to step forward and take a look around, when he bumps into a warm chest. Eyes wide, he meets watery, multi-colored eyes and a sad smile. "Connor..."

"I-what are you doing here...?"

"I just... you were right four years ago, and you're right now, and I don't-I told Simon I'm not going to marry him."

Connor can't hide his shock. "What?"

“Am I too late?” he asks in a desperate whisper.

Connor bites his lip, all his previous thoughts flying away with the rainy wind outside.

“I'm sorry,” Markus says. “I know that's not enough for... for everything I did, and... I know, I hurt you and I wish I could take it back. I was selfish—I _am_ selfish. I'm selfish for doing this again—but if you want to still give me a chance, I will do better. I won’t let you down.”

Connor wants to say no, he really does. He burns himself again on purpose, reminding himself of every time he's felt pain because of this man. He reminds himself how _easy_ it was to tell him to fuck off while he tried his feelings out for someone else, and he tells himself that it was just as easy for him to do the same to poor Simon. He knows that this will probably not last if he gives in. He tells himself that this is a mistake and that he can't, he _can't_ give in to this.

But his body leans into those arms, feeling secure and warm for the first time in over four years, and the chemistry that always existed between them ignites all over again. He’s _home,_ and he doesn’t want to leave. He still loves this man with the very ends of the roots of his soul, and those roots still drink him in and make Connor whole. 

He leans up and takes Markus's lips with his.

Gavin doesn't stick around to watch the display. He walks back outside, his breaths frosting against the rainy night. He lights a cigarette and inhales, cursing Connor to hell for getting sucked back in by the pretty rich boy with the multi-colored eyes.

 _He won't know you_ _  
_ _like I know you_

 _He can't love you_ _  
_ _like I do._

 

**Author's Note:**

> *peeks around the corner* please don't throw things?
> 
> I swear to GOD I'm working on Alive and Free and Best Friends. I am, I swear. hopefully there will be a chapter for each this week.
> 
> y'all rock
> 
> <3Daisy


End file.
